


Alternate Endings

by teddy_or_something



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, BAMF Hermione Granger, But not that slow I promise, Curse Breaker Hermione Granger, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pregnant Hermione Granger, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22497016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddy_or_something/pseuds/teddy_or_something
Summary: There was once a kindly old wizard who used his magic generously and wisely for the benefit of his neighbors.You probably know the rest. But when a wizard living in a muggle neighborhood mysteriously dies and the case draws a direct parallel to a 15th century story, Harry can't help but wonder if they're somehow connected.Enter: Draco Malfoy, who actually sort of believes his theory.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	1. This Here Dead Fellow

**Author's Note:**

> I totally started this story a while ago and definitely abandoned it but now I've decided to work on it a bit more. Yes, I know that's incredibly random and I should probably actually create an update schedule now that I'm actually posting this. I'll definitely get on that. Now enjoy!

_There was once a kindly old wizard who used his magic generously and wisely for the benefit of his neighbors. Rather than reveal the true source of his power, he pretended that his potions, charms and antidotes sprang ready-made from the little cauldron he called his lucky cooking pot. From miles around people came to him with their troubles, and the wizard was pleased to give his pot a stir and put things right._

“Bloody hell.”

Harry raised his head to find his partner looking through the file for their latest case. The ginger shivered and handed the file to him with a troubled look in his eyes. Harry grabbed the file from him, skimming over it quickly, just to get a grasp of the important information. “Wow,” he said.

“Exactly,” said Ron. “Never seen anything like it. Bashed right through the head in his own home, lives alone, and there’s no sign of a break in. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was a suicide.”

“But it wasn't,” said Harry. 

“No, It wasn't.”

Harry looks through the file again, more thoroughly this time. “Any cursed objects involved?”

“They're still searching the residence,” said Ron. “But we're supposed to go interrogate all the neighbors. The poor bastard lived in a muggle neighborhood so we're gonna have to transfigure our robes.”

He stood and followed Ron as he headed to the Ministry appointed apparition point. They quickly turned towards each other to transfigure their robes into suitable muggle police outfits, then he grabbed Ron's arm and they apparated to the house.

Once there, Harry took in the scene. They hadn't startled anyone too badly due to Ron's silent apparition, a skill he'd picked up from George not long after becoming an Auror. Harry had tried to learn it himself, but it took a certain level of patience that he didn't have the- well _patience_ to achieve. 

There was blood on the walls splattered in an arc above the victim's head. Harry was thankful for the air freshening charm, for he had no doubt been lying there for hours and the house had probably smelled like a butcher's shop before the Aurors had gotten there. The victim himself had a fist sized hole going straight through his skull and Harry could tell right away that no muggle had done this. But an assignment’s an assignment, so he and Ron headed outside to question the neighbors.

Honestly, how could a muggle have done this? It didn't even look like a non magical injury. A blind man could tell this was the work of a curse. Now, what kind of curse? Harry didn't know. But what he did know was that the guy's elderly muggle neighbor didn't kill him. She was too busy with her too many cats and too many grandchildren.

“Oh, a nasty fellow, he was,” said Mrs. Fegglewinkle, watering her plants. Her grandson (Brandon, Harry recalled her calling him) came up and tugged the hem of her dress and she produced a lolly out of nowhere and handed it to him. “Terrible personality. Nothing like his old father. Oh, old Charles. Always such a charming man. Would’ve taken him out on a date myself if he wasn’t widowed. That Marcus, though. Uptight, never willing to share. But he didn't deserve to die.” She sniffed haughtily. “Deserved a stern talking to, though. A little reprimand never hurt anybody.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asked. “Never willing to share?” Finally, they were getting somewhere.

Mrs. Fegglewinkle laughed. “Oh, but of course I forgot to tell you. You see, his father was the town doctor of sorts. You ever had a problem, you came to see him. He’d stir something up in his lucky cooking pot and it’d do just the trick.” She sighed. “But young Marcus. He never sought out to help anyone. Not even Mr. Whiskers,” she said sadly, looking over to the moaning cat in the corner. 

“Of course, Mrs. Fegglewinkle,” said Ron exasperatedly. “But did you see or hear anything near his house during the time of his death?”

The elderly woman seemed to think for a moment. “No, I didn't. But there was an awful banging sound coming from his house for days on end before he died.”

“Can you identify the source of the sound?” Harry asked eagerly. “Did anyone maybe hold a grudge against him that went deeper than him not helping out with their sicknesses? Did you see anyone enter during the time of the banging?”

Mrs. Fegglewinkle’s face went blank for a second then went back to her usual cheery smile. “Nope,” she said, gathering a tea kettle off the stove. “Tea?” 

“We already said no, Mrs. Fegglewinkle,” said Ron. “The first five times,” Harry heard him mutter under his breath as they turned away and headed out of the door. 

“That's everybody,” said Harry.

“And not a single person knows anything about him except for the fact that he seemed to be a giant bloody arsehole and his father was a saint,” Ron said with a scowl on his face. Harry understood. This was a rather boring task.

“You need to work on your mouth, mate,” he said with a smirk in Ron's direction. His scowl got deeper. “What with the little one being born any day now.”

“Yeah, yeah. How about _you_ try keeping a clean vocabulary with all the stress that comes with a baby,” they walked back into the house. 

Harry grimaced, “And a pregnant wife.”

"A pregnant _Hermione,_ no less."

Harry chuckled and patted Ron on the shoulder before being shocked by an unpleasantly familiar voice.

"Don't see what's so funny about a bloody corpse with a halo of blood around it. Care to enlighten me?"

"Malfoy," growled Ron, taking a step forward. Harry quickly darted his hand out and grabbed him by the arm before he did something that could get him fired.

Sighing, Harry looked at Malfoy who was scanning objects on the coffee table. He was wearing a standard Auror uniform with his hair slicked back as always- just now he was overdue for a haircut. Strands kept falling into his face and he brushed them back every time he moved. "Why are you here, Malfoy?" Harry asked. He really didn't want any trouble.

"Working, if you can believe it," said Malfoy. He pocketed his wand and stood. "Hello, Potter. Long time no see? How're the baby gingers?" He smirked. "Oh wait-"

"Enough," Harry firmly interrupted. "You know as well as anyone that Ginny and me broke up months ago. Now, are you gonna keep rubbing salt into old wounds or are you gonna do your job?"

Malfoy turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “As I recall, you’re the ones who were just having a laugh while the rest of us were trying to figure out this man’s cause of death.”

“Yeah well we could’ve been helping if they hadn’t sent us on that stupid assignment to question the neighbors,” Ron interjected. “No muggle could’ve done this.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Of course not, Weasley. But we need some kind of motive for whoever- or whatever- did. There could be a witch or wizard disguising themselves as muggles. Maybe a muggle got ahold of a cursed object. We don’t know what could’ve happened and we need some kind of explanation. Now, what did you find?”

Harry was surprised about how easily Malfoy let that last comment go. The old Malfoy would’ve dragged on the teasing for as long as he could. He would’ve even started a fight if it came down to it. This Malfoy however was significantly more mature. He could’ve been way more snarky and yet… 

“We found out that he was a giant bloody areshole, that’s all,” said Ron, interrupting Harry’s train of thought. “But all of these people seemed like muggles. Growing up in a pureblood household, I would’ve been able to sense any magic they were trying to hide. There are no witches or wizards in this neighborhood.”

“Nothing else?”

Harry looked back to the body on the floor. “One of the neighbors said his father was nice. Always helping out with his lucky cooking pot whenever someone was sick.”

Malfoy couldn’t have turned his head faster if he tried. “Lucky cooking pot,” he repeated. He looked contemplating. A second later, he looked annoyed. “Weasley, are you or are you _not_ a pureblood wizard?”

Ron cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t follow.”

Malfoy slowly let air out of his nose. “A nice old wizard helps the town with all their troubles by using a ‘lucky cooking pot’, but when he dies and passes it on to his son, his son doesn’t help a soul.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “You can’t possibly think-”

“I come to conclusions with the information presented to me, Weasley.”

“But that isn’t-”

“Hey!” Harry interrupts. “Half-blood here. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Malfoy frowns. “This case is from a magical fairy tale. Have you ever heard of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, Potter?”

Harry grimaced as he thought back to his time camping out in the woods with Hermione and Ron during his seventh year. He knew the book all too well. Well, one story in particular, but he never had the time or inclination to read the rest. “Sure I have. What’s a children’s story book got to do with this case?”

Ron’s scowl got deeper. “There once was a kindly old wizard who used his magic generously and wisely for the benefit of his neighbors,” he began to say from memory. By the time he finished, Harry had made the connection that Ron and Malfoy had made just a few minutes before him. 

“So this is the son of the wizard?” Harry asked.

Malfoy pocketed his wand. “I’m quite sure this wasn’t the exact son, but the case definitely draws a parallel. The story dates back to 1400, so there’s no telling if it’s a curse based off of the story or-”

“-or if there’s any relation,” said Harry. “Listen, I’m related to the three brothers, right?”

“You’re what?” squawked Malfoy while Ron just nodded.

“So,” Harry continued, ignoring Malfoy’s outburst. “If the bloodline didn’t die off, it’s possible that the cauldron was passed down from generation to generation and this kid had the same problem as the first son-”

“-except he refused to change,” finished Ron. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Draco, looking at the two of them in confusion. “Potter’s related to the Peverell brothers?”

“Ignotus, to be exact,” said Harry. 

“But-” Malfoy spluttered. “But that’s impossible! It’s just a fairy tale! They aren’t actually the characters in the book! It’s just a theory! A legend!” He paused. “Your- your cloak. It’s the cloak that was given to the third brother by death?”

Harry nodded. “I visited his grave in Godric’s Hollow. Honestly, Malfoy. You can’t possibly think I’m lying when you saw me take the Elder Wand from Voldemort with your own two eyes.”

“Well, yes, but they weren’t- they couldn’t be-”

“Malfoy, they’re real. Get over it,” said Ron. “Now, let’s get back to the case.”

Malfoy looked like he wanted to argue but the dismissive looks from both Harry and Ron caused him to shut his mouth and sniff haughtily. “Well,” he said, “if your theory is true and it was the hopping pot that killed him, where is it? We haven’t found a single cauldron in this house.”

“Well it could’ve hopped away,” said Ron.

“Or,” said Harry, drawing his wand, “someone could’ve taken it.” He began casting a series of complex spells well beyond the skill set of someone who has only been an Auror for two years. 

“What are you doing, Potter? We’ve already scanned for magical signatures for people and objects,” said Malfoy. 

“I’m not scanning for magical signatures- or anything magical for that matter,” said Harry. His wand suddenly jumped out of his hand and pointed towards the trash bin. He walked over and began sifting through, pleased to have found what he was looking for. 

“Potter, now’s not the time to be looking for food,” said Malfoy derisively. 

Ron scowled at Malfoy but ignored the comment. “What he means is, why are you searching the trash, Harry?”

Harry’s soft _‘aha’_ did not answer their question. Well, not until he stood up with one empty brown box in his hand. “I was wondering how on Earth no one saw the cauldron hopping out of the house on a loud brass foot. The only explanation would be that it had the slipper, so I had to see if it was still here. And,” he said, flipping the box over to show that it was empty, “it wasn’t.” 

“So if the slipper _and_ the cauldron are gone, how will we get anyone to believe us about the story?” asked Ron.

“We won’t,” said Malfoy. Both Harry and Ron looked at him quizzically. 

“What do you mean we won’t?” asked Ron.

“I mean, Weasley, that we will work the case on our own, and when it’s solved, we’ll present the evidence.”

Harry frowned. “But isn’t that against the rules? And the _law,_ for that matter?”

Malfoy snorted and pushed his hair back, which was once again falling into his face. “Since when do you care about the rules, Potter?” When he got no answer, he continued. “First we have to figure out what or who cursed the cauldron. It had to be a very powerful wizard, because from what we know, the pot couldn’t be charmed or vanished, and it didn’t have a habit of jumping through people’s skulls.”

“Sure. But who had it out for him who wasn’t a muggle?” asked Harry.

“Wait, we’re going along with this, Harry? _Harry?_ ”

Harry turned to Ron. “Do you have any better ideas?” he asked.

Before Ron could answer, they heard Kingsley’s voice booming from where the body was. All eyes turned to him. “Alright, Aurors, that’s enough work for today. Please bring all collected evidence to the Unspeakables department and insert it into the Ministry files. Have a nice rest of your day and rest up. We have a busy schedule tomorrow.”

While everyone else left to bring their evidence to the Ministry, Harry placed a no-tamper and concealment charm on the box. He planned on bringing it to Hermione to examine. If anyone could find a seemingly untraceable signature on a box that spent hours in the trash, she could. “We’ll talk later, Malfoy,” said Harry. Malfoy nodded once and he and Ron apparated away, ready to take a break and eat dinner. It was Ron’s turn to cook tonight, and (not that anyone would tell Hermione) he had a Mrs. Weasley gene that topped anything Hermione cooked even if she followed the exact recipe. 

“God, this is ridiculous,” said Ron. “And working with Malfoy, Harry? What were you thinking?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh come one, mate. Just give him a chance. He might not be so bad. And if anything goes wrong, we can always blame our law-breaking on him.”

Ron snorted. “I hope you’re right, mate.”

 _‘So do I,’_ thought Harry. _‘So do I.’_


	2. Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces are coming together...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Its chapter 2! I'll be updating every Friday, guys! Okay, enjoy!

“‘Ello, Hermione,” greeted Harry cheerfully as he bent down so that the pregnant woman who was currently lounging on the couch could place a kiss on his cheek. 

“Hi, Harry!” she said. “How was work? Ron’s already told me about the weird case you have. Seems just like the tale, doesn’t it?”

Harry nodded and sat down in the armchair next to the couch. “Yeah, it was odd. Did he tell you about-”

“Your conversation with Malfoy? Your agreement to break the law? The evidence that you stole from the crime scene instead of bringing it to the Ministry?” Hermione questioned with a disapproving look on her face. 

Harry smiled bashfully. “So he did tell you. Did he tell you that I wanted your help with this box?” he asked, taking the charms off of it and placing it on the coffee table. 

Hermione slowly, but quickly as she could, moved to sit in an upright position. “He did. And while I’m not very pleased with your decision to break the law,” she rolled up her sleeves and pulled her wand out, tossing a smile Harry’s way, “I’d be more than happy to help.”

Harry wasn’t very surprised that she’d agreed. Even though she’s tired and moody all the time, Harry knows she’s been incredibly frustrated with being on maternity leave. Hermione would much rather be out on the field breaking complex curses than sitting on the couch waiting for a baby to come. If she had it her way, she would’ve just cast a shield charm on her stomach and continued going to work. Unfortunately for her (and fortunately for everyone else), she didn’t have it her way, and so she was couch ridden and not happy about it. 

Just as she was about to begin, Ron came out of the kitchen levitating three plates piled up with meatloaf, green beans, and potatoes in front of himself. “No curse breaking while we’re eating.” 

Hermione scowled and sank back into the couch. She sniffed, reminding Harry ever so slightly of Malfoy, and eyed the food with a barely concealed hunger in her eyes. Ron sat down on the couch beside her and gently let the plates rest on the table. Harry moved the box back to the other side of his chair and out of Hermione’s line of sight so she wouldn’t get any ideas. But because she was Hermione, she picked up on what they were doing pretty quickly. “I’m not going to forget that easily. I’m working on that box right after I finish eating, you hear me?” she said, mostly looking at Ron. 

“Of course, Hermione,” he said placatingly. 

But she didn’t have the chance. Once she finished eating, she fell asleep right there on the couch, snoring loudly. 

“You didn’t,” said Harry. Ron shrugged, scraping at the last of the food on his plate. “Ron, she’s gonna be pissed when she wakes up.”

“Luckily, I’ll be gone for work by then. You can leave the box here so she can get right to it rather than trying to track me down and murder me,” Ron said with a mouth full of green beans and potatoes. 

“I don’t think it was fair of you to place a sleeping drought in her food, Ron,” said Harry. 

“Oh, lay off, mate. If you’ve never drugged your pregnant wife, you’re doing it wrong,” said Ron, clearing the table. “Besides, the healers said I should if I think she’s going to stress herself and the baby. It was too late for her to be working. She would’ve been up until morning. Tomorrow, at least she has the entire day so she won’t mess up her sleep schedule and be even more grumpy than she usually is.” He glances at Hermione nervously. “Don’t tell her I called her grumpy though.”

Harry snorted. “That’s fair. I still think you’ll be getting a howler tomorrow though.”

“Oh no doubt, Ron said, standing up and levitating Hermione’s body. Harry stood too. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta get this woman to bed.”

Harry smiled at his best friend’s antics and sat the box back down on the coffee table. “I’ll head out, mate. See you in the morning.”

“Yeah, see ya, Harry!” he heard Ron call as he stepped into the floo.

He immediately headed for the kitchen when he got home. After all, the firewhiskey was waiting and the spiked pumpkin juice leftover from Thanksgiving wasn’t as strong as he needed (Ron had dialed it down for the teenagers he knew would sneak some). He poured himself a small amount and sat down at the island, thinking about the case. What if the man _was_ related to the father and son in the story? Does that mean everyone else was real too? He hadn’t read the entire storybook, but he knew there were more. Who writes stories about wizards and witches lives and turns them into children’s stories? Was he a journalist? Was he an occlumens? Harry yearned to find the answer. 

But that didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was finding that cauldron. And that could wait until morning. Harry downed the rest of the liquid in his glass and spelled it clean. He was ready for a good night’s rest.

Unfortunately, his dreams did not agree. 

_A man snuck into a small house at night. He heard the loud thumping sound of metal on hardwood and followed it curiously. He was here to get revenge on the wizard who wronged him. ___

___As he crept up the stairs, he noticed many peculiar things in the home. The heads of little green men and women were bolted to a wall. Moving portraits whispered to each other; pictures refused to stand still. Still, none of this frightened him. Rather, he was mystified. “What is this? Who is this man?” he whispered to himself. ____ _

_____He tightened his grip around the club he was holding when the banging seemed to get louder, almost vibrating the house. What it was, he couldn’t say. He didn’t care. As long as he got his revenge, he would be fine. ____ _ _ _

_______There were three doors at the top of the steps. One to his right, one to his left, and one right in front of him, where the banging was coming from. He slowly crept forward and opened the left one. “Just a loo,” he whispered. He looked inside. It was empty. He opened the one on the right. “A bedroom,” he said. He looked inside. “Empty.” ____ _ _ _ _ _

_________The third and final door was where the man was. The man responsible for his mother’s death. The banging left a ringing sound in his ears as he crept forward once more. Slowly. **Slowly.** His hand touched the knob. This was it. This was his revenge. But he paused. There was more than a banging sound now. There was retching and coughing and sneezing. There was gagging and a rumbling sound that sounded like a man starving. There was a **pop!** like an exploding boil every few seconds. Was the man sick and dying? Serves him right for his wrongdoings. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________The man turned the knob. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Harry jerked awake. What was that? Was he dreaming about the case? Was he that into it? He slipped out of the bed and walked towards the loo. He needed to cool down. He bent over the sink and splashed his face then dried it with a flick of his wand._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Harry knew better than anyone that dreams were never _just _dreams. After all, one of his "dreams" saved Mr. Weasley's life at one point. But that was just because of Voldemort's soul piece. How could he be dreaming about Marcus's death when he wasn't connected to anything concerning it?___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Any residual magic left on him from the murder would've been picked up by the Aurors. If there _was _any that they couldn't trace, was anyone else having these dreams?___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________He had to tell someone. He couldn't just keep them to himself. But he definitely couldn't tell Ron at this hour, not with Hermione around anyways. If she woke up she'd kill him. But he couldn't tell anyone else either. _"Tempus," _he whispered. It was two in the morning. He sighed. The news would just have to wait until morning. Unless-___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"What could you possibly want at this hour, you git?” asked a sleepy Malfoy through the floo. He was the only other person Harry could tell. He had to take a chance that he was awake._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I had a dream,” said Harry._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"Don't we all," countered Malfoy. "In fact, I was having a rather lovely one before you had to come along and interrupt it. So if you don't mind-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"It was about the case."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Malfoy paused. "What?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"The dream. I think I was- I don't know- _seeing _the murder in action. Almost as if I was there," spoke Harry quickly, as if he was afraid Malfoy would cut him off and end the floo connection.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________A sigh. And then- "Tell me about it," said Malfoy, grabbing a quill and parchment._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Harry sighed in relief. "Well, it started with a muggle man breaking into Marcus's house. He went up the stairs towards the banging sound."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"Then what happened?" asked Malfoy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"Well, that was it," said Harry. "But," he quickly continued when Malfoy looked annoyed enough to end their call, "it was almost as if I could feel what he was feeling. It felt like he was- like he was getting revenge or something."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"Or for someone Marcus refused to help?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Harry nodded. "Probably."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Malfoy sat his quill down. "I still don't think that was worth you waking me up at two in the morning for, but if you have anymore dreams like that, let me know."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"Wait," said Harry, eyes widening. "You really believe me?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Malfoy sighed and placed his quill and parchment on the coffee table behind him. "Potter, I've known you long enough to know that ordinary things are never ordinary when it comes to you."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Harry chuckled. "That's fair," he said. "Well, thanks, I guess. See you in the morning?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Malfoy nodded sleepily and severed the connection, leaving Harry feeling lighter than when he first flooed him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________The morning left Harry feeling groggy, most likely because of his midnight floo call with Malfoy. But he supposed he would feel worse if he'd kept his dream to himself, so he could bear the few minutes before he got his morning coffee._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________He put on his usual outfit (pressed slacks, white button down shirt, black shoes) and headed down to his kitchen to enjoy a cream cheese bagel and a cup or two of coffee. By the time he finished, he was energized and ready to begin his day. _Murder investigation, here I come, _he thought.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________When he apparated to the Ministry, he immediately felt a stinging hex to his thigh. "Ow!" he yelled and looked up to see who had hexed him. It was Malfoy with small, nearly unnoticeable bags under his eyes and an angry look on his face. “Damn it, Malfoy! That hurt!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“You know, Potter, I don’t really care,” he said, throwing another stinging hex towards his foot that Harry deflected easily. “Because I’m tired and my coffee machine went out, and I wouldn’t be so tired if you hadn’t woken me up at two in the morning, and though you made an interesting discovery about the case, I’m still pissed off that you woke me up at that hour.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Okay, okay!” said Harry, deflecting a hex aimed for the crotch that probably would’ve hurt like hell. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? But hexing me is not a good solution. How about I just buy you a coffee?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Malfoy’s scowl eased up a little. He sniffed and threw his head to the side. “Green tea. Coffee is disgusting.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Harry sighed. “Fine. Tea. Okay?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Malfoy crossed his arms and stared at him with a raised eyebrow. “Hmph,” he said finally. “Fine.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Once Malfoy got his tea and Harry wasn’t getting hexed anymore, they headed to Ron’s office and arrived just in time to see him open a Howler from Hermione._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________________“RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU DOUSED ME WITH A SLEEPING POTION! HOW DARE YOU? I COULD’VE FALLEN! YOU COULD’VE DROPPED ME ON YOUR WAY TO THE BEDROOM! AND I TOLD HARRY I WOULD WORK ON THE BOX AS SOON AS I WAS DONE EATING! NOW I’M BEHIND SCHEDULE. YOU’D BETTER HAVE A BOX FULL OF CHOCOLATE FROGS WHEN YOU GET BACK OR YOU’RE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH FOR A WEEK!” ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Ron blinked as the letter disintegrated before him, the pieces scattering over the piles of evidence files stacked atop his desk. He looked up at the clearing of Harry’s throat and Malfoy’s poorly muffled snickers. “Harry,” he nodded. “Malfoy,” he grumbled shortly after when Harry looked as if he was going to tell him to acknowledge him. Call him a ponce, but he couldn’t take two people reprimanding him in one day (especially when one of those people was Hermione)._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Malfoy composed himself and nodded back, then walked over to the couch Ron and Harry had in the corner of their office and took a seat. “So, Potter had a dream last night,” he said, taking a sip of his tea. He looked over at Harry. “Care to share?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Uh, yeah,” said Harry, launching into another explanation of the dream he’d had the night before while Malfoy took out his notes and scribbled down any information Harry might’ve left out the first time. By the time he finished, Ron was a pale white and his fingers gripped the quill in his hand so tightly Harry feared it would break. “You okay, Ron?” asked Harry._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Ron seemed to snap out of his stupor. “Oh, yes. I just think you should make sure you keep note of everything that happens in your dreams from now on. After all, you know what happened with my dad…” He trailed off but Harry remembered vividly. Fifth year was a frightening time, especially during that time. Mr. Weasley being attacked by Nagini was something he’d never forget._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Yeah,” he said._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Wait,” said Malfoy. “I never did get the details, but I know that Voldemort had horcruxes and I heard from my mother that Potter might’ve been one of them, which is how he survived the killing curse twice.” He paused as if looking for confirmation. When they’d both nodded, he continued. “If that’s the case, how would Potter here be having dreams about the case? He wasn’t there and as far as we know, Marcus didn’t have horcruxes and Potter wasn’t one of them if he did.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Harry sighed and took a seat on the edge of his desk. “Yeah, I was wondering the same thing,” he said._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Well maybe Harry touched a bit of residual magic and it stuck to him,” said Ron. “I don’t know how no one else sensed it if that’s true, but maybe that’s what happened.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Malfoy nodded. “That’s the most solid guess we have right now. Any ideas, Potter?” Harry shook his head ‘no’. “Well then,” said Malfoy, “let’s go through some of these evidence files.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	3. Today we find: nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wine... basically.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Harry, Ron, and Draco sat in their respective areas of the room staring at the piles of evidence files before them. There was nothing to be seen from them except for the fact that everything at the crime scene was useless save for the box that Harry found in the trash. The men sat back in their seats and sighed, silently admitting defeat. 

Draco flung his arm over his forehead. “Well this was a waste of time,” he said. He was staring at the conjured snitch Harry had started playing with after he’d finished his stack of files. 

“Yes, yes it was,” said Harry, catching the snitch and vanishing it. 

Ron stood up from his desk and stretched his arms above his head. “Oh well,” he said, dropping down to the floor to start doing pushups. 

Draco stared at him with a bemused look on his face before turning his attention to Harry. “What is the ginger doing and please tell him to stop.”

Harry shrugged. “Ron gets fidgety when he’s been sitting down for a long time,” he said. “So he does _that_ sometimes.” He gestured to Ron who had completed fifty push ups and was now beginning to do sit ups. “I don’t question it.”

Draco’s eyes flickered back to the read-head. “Mhm,” he said. “So what do you propose should be our next step?”

“Well,” Harry said, "we wait for Hermione's findings."

…

Ron sat on the couch with his wife as he tenderly rubbed the red, hand-shaped mark on his face. Harry sat on the armchair across from them while Draco stood, looking nervously at the trio.

"You can sit down, ya know," said Ron to Draco.

"I'm fine, Weasley," he said.

"Malfoy," said Ron exasperated, "sit down."

Draco took one last apprehensive look at the sofa before taking a seat on the edge of it. Once he'd determined that it wasn't going to attack him, he sat further back and relaxed a little.

"What did you find, Hermione?" asked Harry. "Hopefully something. We've had no luck on our end."

Hermione sat her wand down on the coffee table and began to speak. "Harry, has anything strange happened over the last few days?"

Harry shrugged. "No, not really. Wait! I had a dream. I think it was about the case."

"You saw the murder, did you?" Hermions asked.

Harry's brows furrowed. "Well, no, not exactly. I think it was part of it though."

Hermione sighed. "The place was wiped clean. And so was the box. Any evidence you might have found is completely gone. Except for a tiny bit of residual magic. Some that's latched itself onto you, Harry."

"What?" Harry asked.

"You were the first one to touch the box after the killer. That scrap of magic couldn't have survived on the box, so it latched onto you. You're going to continue having dreams until it dies, which means you're going to see the entire murder played out in your head in full detail. You are the key to solving the murder."

"So there's nothing on the box?" asked Draco. "Nothing useful for tracking the murder?"

"Any magic on the box is on Harry now. And it's no use trying to find it," she quickly added as Draco began to pull out his wand. "Harry's magical signature is so vast and strong that it's completely engulfed anything he picked up from the box."

Draco frowned. "So we just have to wait for him to dream it out?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Sorry, Harry," she said with a wry smile on her face.

"Yeah, yeah," said Harry, getting up and heading to the kitchen. "Red wine, anyone?" he asked, pulling the bottle of Château Lagrange out of the wine cooler. A chorus of 'yes please' and 'absolutely' followed him into the kitchen.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They drink tea and go to the library.

_The man turned the knob. There he saw the man covering his ears while he appeared to be trying to sleep and, what was even more unsettling, a pot hopping around on a single brass foot, coughing and filled to the brim with bile that swished and spilt on the floor every time it moved. It was covered in boiled filled with pus and every time it sneezed, one popped. “What- what madness?” he asked, but the other man couldn’t hear him over the brass foot. **Hop. Hop. Hop hop hop.**_

_Then it stopped._

Harry sighed, eyes still closed as he woke up that morning. These bits and pieces were helping, but _Merlin_ , they moved slowly. 

He sat up and rubbed at his eyes, blindly grabbing at his nightstand for a quill and some parchment so he could write down what he saw.

Once he finished, he folded up the parchment and tucked it into the pocket of his auror robes, intent on going down to his kitchen to eat some breakfast. After that, he would deal with the bullshit that was this case, and then _maybe_ he could get on with his life.

When he got to work, Malfoy was already there, reading the Daily Prophet and sipping some tea. Harry spotted an identical cup on his desk and muttered a quiet 'thank you' before going over to sit his things down.

"Any dreams last night, Potter?" asked Malfoy without looking up.

"Yes. I wrote it down. Here," said Harry, attempting to pass the paper over to Malfoy to read. Malfoy just rolled his eyes.

"You know I can't read your chicken scratch, Potter."

"Yes you can, Malfoy. I've seen you do it."

"Well I don't want to."

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes as the parchment was sent back over to him. "Basically, the pot did the same thing it did in the story. It started taking on the symptoms of the people the son refused to help."

"Ahh."

Harry looked up from where he was rereading the report (it was a habit at this point) to stare at Malfoy quizzically. "That's all you're going to say? 'Ahh'?"

Malfoy shrugged. "That's all I can say, Potter. It isn't like we can solve this case before your dreams stop."

"You don't know that. We might just have enough clues to solve it before the dreams stop." 

Malfoy just shot a derisive look at Harry. "You know as well as I do that that won't happen, Potter. This case won't be solved without you." He laughed, but it was hollow. "You're the golden boy, once again."

"Hey-"

"I didn't mean anything by it, Potter. Don't get your Gryffindor panties in a twist." Malfoy turned fully to Harry. "You really have a knack for getting into binds, Potter."

Harry folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Yeah," he said.

Malfoy stared at Harry for a little while longer before turning back to his own desk. "Anyways, we don't have much to do anymore but wait. Would you like to search for traces of the hopping pot over the past century? Maybe we can find it."

Harry hummed his approval and they got up and left the office. "I suppose we could look in Hogwarts," he said. "The library there is extensive."

"I didn't know you knew the word 'extensive,' Potter." He dodged the stinging hex shot his way. "But yes, that's a good idea. I'll send a Patronus to McGonagall."

Harry waved at the coworkers he saw walk past them as Malfoy sent his Patronus. 

"Let's go, Potter," said Malfoy, pulling him along by his wrist.

"Woah, Malfoy, what are you doing? Where are we going?" He could feel the glare without Malfoy having to turn around, but he turned around anyway because he's an arsehole.

"To Hogsmeade, where else? I'm dragging you to the apparation zone because you don't seem to know that you should do so, yourself."

"Haha, Malfoy."

"On the contrary, Potter. It isn't funny at all."

Once they got to the apparation zone, Harry held on to Malfoy's arm and braced himself for the sickening feeling of being sucked through a magical tube to Hogsmeade. 

Once they got there, Harey let go of Malfoy and tried to regain his footing. He looked around and smiled at the memories he had in this place. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he'd almost missed McGonagall's cat prowling up to Malfoy and relay her message. 

_"Yes, Auror Malfoy, you are welcome to come and use the library for your case. Hagrid will be waiting to open the front gate when you get to the school."_

Sure enough, as they got to the front gate. They saw Hagrid waiting for them.

"Harry!" he shouted. "Oh, hullo, Malfoy," he added as an afterthought, looking unsurely at the blonde. 

"Hey, Hagrid!"

"Hello."

"How's it been going? I hear you're here working on a case. Bit of a nasty one, eh?"

Malfoy, surprisingly, was the one to answer. "Indeed. In fact, it resembles a story from the Tales of Beedle the Bard."

Hagrid's eyebrows shot up. "Huh. That's…"

"Odd, right?" said Harry.

"Yeah." Hagrid had a contemplating look on his face before adopting his normal cheerful attitude. "Well, I'll leave you to it! Good luck!"

"Thanks, Hagrid!" said Harry, as they headed into the building. "I didn't know you could be civil, Malfoy," he said when they got past the grand entrance. Luckily, all students were in class right now, so no states followed them as they walked through the halls of the castle. 

"I'm much more mature these days, Potter."

"I can see that," said Harry, looking over at Malfoy with a thoughtful look in his face. "Well, let's get this over with."


End file.
